CA-125 Back

Hey guys, thanks for hanging in there and being concerned for me.  I finally got my CA-125 tests results back today and it is 22.  It was 19 and then went up to 21 and then back to 19 and now 22.  The doctor says that at any given day and hour, my count can vary and so this is nothing to be alarmed about.  The norm is 0-35 and so I am well within the norm.  As for my dizziness, I got a blessing on Thursday night and things have begun getting better from that point on.  :-)

Happy Birthday Charlene!

Today is our oldest child’s birthday.  Charlene is 33 years old today and it is hard to believe that we have a daughter that old!  No offense to you Chars!  :-)  It just seems like she was born yesterday!  Here are some pictures of our sweet Charlene.  She was due on July 7th and finally had to be induced on July 30th!  We don’t want to say anything….but we have been waiting around for her ever since!  haha

 
     Charlene at one month               and  9 months                        

       Chars at 2 years old   and      five years old
Charlene has been such an amazing daughter!  We are so grateful that she was born first, because she has been so loving and forgiving of all of our mistakes that we have made along the way.  She amazes us at how she wants the best for all of her younger siblings, even if she didn’t have it herself.  Charlene has been like a second mom to her younger siblings and we all love her for it.  We appreciate the righteous choices she has made throughout her life and know that it has had an invaluable effect on how the rest of our children turned out.

Here is Charlene in one of her “crazy hair” stages as a pre-teen

Here is Charlene as a gorgeous High School Senior…wow has she matured well!
When Charlene met Paul Johnson, it was love at first sight for both of them!
It didn’t take long before we heard wedding bells!  Now thirteen and a half years later, they have four beautiful children that have blessed their home.
 
Our family didn’t feel complete until Paul came along!  He has been there through the thick and the thin with all of us and he puts up with Chars when we can’t! (love you Chars!!!:-)

Sometimes I ask myself, “What did I do to deserve such a beautiful daughter both inside and out?” I remember when Charlene was younger I felt that in some ways she was more spiritually mature than I was.  I have often wondered if she was older spiritually in the pre-existence, and some how I got the privilege to be her earthly mother.  We have both taught each other so much.  I consider it a great honor to call her one of my dearest friends and confidants.  She loves other people so much and has the ability to “know” just what to say and do to make you feel like a million dollars. 

Happy Birthday Charlene!  You are so special to each of us!  Hope you have a great day….you deserve it!

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                    To Serve Him is to Love Him

I was paralyzed with fear when I received that dreaded phone call on January 7, 1991.  As I drove to the hospital I silently prayed, "Please God, don't let it end this way."  My husband, Don, and I had been married fourteen years.  We had been struggling financially and were experiencing great stress, and we had drifted apart.  We both were just tired of our life together, and our marriage seemed much more work than it was worth.  To compound matters, we also had to deal with our teenagers.

Several months earlier, Don had been in an auto accident.  I was very upset but relieved, when I reached him, to find out he was fine.  This time, however, I felt that things were different.  I wondered, "Is the Lord going to take him because of the bad feelings I've had?"  I didn't understand why, but as I drove to the hospital I felt that this accident had a purpose.  I wasn't sure what it was, but felt certain that the Lord would use this experience to teach me something.
I wondered if I was so hard-headed that this was the only way the Lord could get my attention.  In the past we had a good marriage, but in recent months we had steadily moved in different directions. When hard times began, instead of building each other up, we constantly found fault.  I was once told, "You should be the guardian of your spouse's self-esteem."  We had certainly fallen far short of this sound advice. With news of his first accident, a part of me started to soften, but with the realization that Don was in no imminent danger, my protective walls went right back up.

At the hospital, I found Don unconscious!  He had been up on a ladder and had fallen two stories.  I had no idea as to the extent of his injuries, and fear gripped my heart.  I knew that people had been paralyzed or even died from falling just one story.  I silently prayed for help.  Why was this happening to us now, when we were having so many other problems?  Though deeply frustrated, I felt something for Don I hadn't experienced in a long time. The thought of actually losing him cut deeply into my heart.

The next five and a half hours seemed like an eternity.  Don was taken to the operating room for reconstructive surgery.  He had landed on his ankle, crushing it, and his entire leg had crumpled under the weight.  The bone was broken so severely that it protruded through his skin.  During the next few months, Don experienced excruciating pain.  He was not allowed to put even the slightest bit of pressure on his leg.  He was forced to lie completely still while the healing process began.

We were really struggling with this ordeal.  Our lives were totally uprooted by it, and many changes were forced upon us.  Don had to rely on me to help him with everything. Then, as I began serving him, our feelings started to change.  It was impossible for him to sleep in our waterbed and still remain motionless, so I made a bed for him in the den.  In this room it was very cold at night and in the early morning.  A fire in the fireplace made it bearable, so I continually stoked the fire all through the nights in order to keep him warm.

Don couldn't tend to any of his personal needs without me, which forced us to be closer to each other than we had been in a long time.  At first he was not pleasant with the forced intimacy. I'm sure the pain he was enduring was more than I will ever comprehend.  However, the miracle that took place between the two of us was worth any pain that either of us would ever experience.

The more I served Don, the more I loved him.  Feelings long ago buried were born again.  And because of the many hours of love and service I gave, he also experienced a great change of heart.  We didn't fall in love--we grew in love.  In retrospect, I am frightened by the direction our lives were taking!  I know the Lord didn't cause this accident, yet I am thankful he allowed us this opportunity to change.  I have truly witnessed a miraculous change of heart in both of us.  We now have a bond of love and friendship such as we never had before.  I testify that the best way to learn to love your spouse is to serve him or her unselfishly.  We have now been married more than twenty years, and look forward to the rest of time and eternity together.

                                                                         --Name withheld
                                                        (By Small & Simple Things by Michele Romney Garvin)

Ups and downs and back and forths...?

Life is definitely filled with ups and downs, but how about back and forths?  For the past two weeks I have been very dizzy and light-headed.  At night when I get up to go to the bathroom, I feel like a drunken sailor as I bounce from wall to wall.   Today I spent most of the day at the doctors.  The first doctor I went to was an Ear, Nose and Throat specialist (E.N.T.) who deals with vertigo.  Dr. Darley was referred to me by a friend and so I went to him.  I described my symptoms to him and he said that I had classic BPPV.  Okay, I thought, what in the world is that?  I looked it up on the internet and it means Benign Paroxysmal Positional Vertigo (BPPV).  He said he used a maneuver to help correct this problem, and suggested that we video tape it so if it comes back, I will know what to do.  So here is the video tape if you are at all interested.  (I am getting braver and braver now days and the only place I wear a wig is at church.  My husband challenged me to go "natural" to church by the end of August.)

This is my second time doing this maneuver.  Dr. Darley said that this maneuver is effective with 85% of the people on the first time.  The 15% that it wasn't succesful, if done a second time, 85% of those have the vertigo corrected.  It helped a little last week, but it came back, so I am hoping that it will work this time.  However, if my dizziness is cancer related, it may not help at all.

I then went to my oncologist, Dr. Wallentine and had my 3 month check up and my infusion of the drug Avastin.  He asked how I was doing and I quickly gave him a laundry list of things that were bothering me.  I told him that I had been experiencing dizziness, along with nausea, fatigue, and aching muscles and joints throughout my body.  Not to mention the continual neuropathy in my upper left leg and both feet.  Other than that, things were great!   :-)

Dr. Wallenting couldn't figure out why the sudden onset of these symptoms, since I have been taking Avastin since December.  While we were talking, he looked through the secondary side effects that Avastin might have, and all of these were listed under the minor category.  I was afraid that he was going to suggest that I stop taking Avastin, but I told him that I was willing to put up with these side effects in order to be able to have the hopeful benefit that Avastin will keep the cancer away longer.  In a strange way it is comforting to know why I am feeling the way I am - and that it is not just something in my head.

The doctor is sending me to a neurologist to get a baseline on my neuropathy for the future and to see if they have any other suggestions on what might help me now.  The Alpha-Lipoic Acid was working on my neuropathy for a long time, but now it doesn't seem to be helping.  A couple of months ago he gave me a prescription for my  neuropathy called Neuroton  It is a drug that is used to treat seizures, but is also used to treat nerve pain.  However, the side effects from this drug are clumsiness, tiredness, drowsiness, dizziness, nausea, constipation or an upset stomach.  (All of which I already am experiencing NOT taking this drug).  UGH!  So I told him that I was not going to take it - and he agreed with me.

I had my CA-125 blood test taken - but they didn't have the results as of today when I left.  When I get the results back tomorrow, I will come back and up date this post with the number.  This is a very important blood test that can detect early tumor growth.  Life is still very good and I am happy to be alive and to be able to be involved in my children and grandchildren's lives.  I love the Lord and am so grateful for modern day medicine and the power of the priesthood.  I'm know that I'm still alive because of both of these things.

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                            It didn't Hurt a Bit!

Billy wound up and faked a throw.  Some of the less sophisticated kids scrambled four or five steps in the wrong direction until they realized the coins had not left Billy's hands.  Then they scurried back pleading for him to really throw the money.  Billy would cackle and then conduct another theatrical windup, which might or might not produce the sprinkling of silver.

I grew up with Billy.  He was in my elementary school class almost every year.  Billy was the kind of boy everyone knew, but nobody liked.  He tried hard, but many of his actions were self-defeating and made him unpleasant to be around.  His family life was the major source of his problems.  He was the product of a broken home and his low self-esteem and behavior problems were accentuated by no father and an alcoholic mother.

I distinctly remember the year he resorted to throwing money on the play ground.  Day after day Billy would bring pockets full of change and stand in the middle of the enthusiastic throng.  He quickly created a long, drawn out ritual which allowed him to bask a little longer in the spot light.  He would wait until the clamoring crowd paid him the appropriate homage, then he would begin the false flings. 
By using this method he created and controlled a small universe.  Billy became the center of attention.  His artificially adoring subjects circled him, feigning compliments and urging him to impart of his lunch money or allowance, or pilfering from his mother's purse.  In this sad ritual he found the measure of attention only pocket change could buy.  Of course, when the money was gone, the crowd and their adulations quickly evaporated too and Billy became again the boy that had no friends.

Not long after this episode of money throwing, Billy was absent for an extended period of time.  On one of these days, our fifth grade teacher talked to us about Billy.  I believe her words were intended to be a lecture, but she could not berate us.  Instead, as tears welled in her eyes, she vented her feelings of frustration for children unloved and a world unfeeling.  I never forgot her plea, or the fountain of sympathy that swelled in me towards Billy in response to her words.

When we were in eighth grade, Billy was still with us but the great social sifting which occurs in adolescence had started.  Birds of a feather flocked together.  Our paths drastically diverged.  He began his descent into the social strata where people with similar backgrounds tended to gravitate.  He found friends whose lives mirrored his own upbringing and I found friends who mimicked my reflection.  And although we never talked, I still harbored those deep feelings spawned by my fifth grade teacher.

It was those feelings that lead to a great lesson one day.  The bell had just rung releasing a swarm of students heading for their next class.  Billy's leg was in a cast and he was using crutches.  He had been released early so he could make it to his next class on time.  I had just started down the down-staircase when I saw Billy on the landing.  I got there just as two older boys skipped down the last flight of steps.  I do not know for certain what happened, but it was easy to guess. 

Billy lay sprawled on the landing.  He was crying and trying to get up using his one good leg, while also trying to reach his crutches, one of which lay on the landing and the other on the stairs.  He was hurting and fighting mad.  Something clicked in me at that moment.  The seed which had been long dormant in my heart for Billy suddenly, bloomed.  Hadn't we known each other for years?  If anybody should come to his aid, shouldn't it be me?  Here was my chance to help Billy.

Dropping my books, I ran to him.  He had managed to get up on one leg and was hopping about, trying to stand up.  His tears flowed hot and angry.  I grabbed his arm and slipped it around my shoulder to support him.  What happened next is as clear to me now as when it occurred 25 years ago.  As I straightened up to take some of the weight off his leg, he swung his free fist as hard as his frustration would let him into my stomach.  I ducked and quickly backed out of the grasp.  I was stunned at this reaction to my noble gesture.  Here I had finally discovered a way to demonstrate my compassion and provide a service to Billy, and I was treated like an enemy.  I was totally bewildered.

Over the years I have come to some level of understanding.  I know what motivated me to run to his side and I know now why Billy reacted the way he did.  I have drawn solid conclusions about every aspect of that situation except one...the feel of his fist.  Billy was a big boy, and a punch like the one he delivered to my skinny, pre-pubescent frame should have folded me in half with pain, but it didn't.  Though his fist was clenched hard and he swung with all the fury an angry, frustrated eight grader could muster, I felt absolutely nothing.  No loss of wind, no pain, no groan, no doubling over.  Nothing!  Though he would not, or could not be served, the fruits of my attempt were as sweet as a pat on the back.

Herein I think, is the lesson.  Sometimes in our lives we may offer service where it is misunderstood, ignored or rejected.  We may find ourselves wondering if we have wasted valuable time and energy.  Yet when we serve where there is no hope of appreciation or recognition, the Lord softens the blows and sweetens the reactions.  He intercedes, blesses and sanctions our attempt. 

Christ offered a lifetime of unrecognized service to those who would have no part of it.  He was rejected not only by his peers, but by every generation that has followed.  He alone has had to view the heart rending history of this earth and seen his sacrifice trampled by mankind's children, grandchildren and great grandchildren.  Yet in response to rejection, he gently suggests we turn the other cheek.  He did not state the reward for doing so.  That is left to be discovered by those who practice the principle.  However, I for one can testify of its sweetness, for I felt it, and it didn't hurt a bit.

                          


                    --Andrew Martel Anderson, Free lance writer for the Beehive Newspape
                                   (Out of Small Things by Michele Romney Garvin)

Visible and Nonvisable Trials

This week my feet have been killing me.  My neuropathy seems to come and go randomly without rhyme or reason.  Yesterday we went to the Timpanogos temple and I dreaded putting on my temple shoes because my feet always hurt worse because my shoes are so narrow.  As my hair has started to grow back, I’ve gotten brave and gone places with just my short hair, but I usually always wear my wig to church and the temple.  This time I decided to go to the temple without my wig for the first time!

As we sat down in the full chapel, I was a bit self conscious as I looked around and tried to avoid eye contact with too many people.  However, I couldn't help but notice a young sister sitting two rows behind me.  She had beautiful long red hair and was waving a fan back and forth in front of her face.  I smiled and then noticed that her hand was missing some fingers.  From where I was sitting I couldn't see clearly what had happened, but I thought it was so neat that she was there at the temple.  I was immediately drawn to her and wanted to know her story.  Since I've had cancer it’s interesting to note that where ever I go, I seem to feel a special "connection” with anyone else who has gone through a trial.

As we walked into the session, I went to an empty row of chairs because I like sitting on the end to have more room.  A couple minutes went by and I looked up, and there was this beautiful young woman coming to sit next to me.  How lucky....or maybe it wasn't luck and God had planned for this to happen to help me count my blessings and have an attitude adjustment.

After she sat down, I leaned over and smiled at her and said, "It's so nice to see you in the temple."  She smiled back as she looked at my hair and replied, "We (her mom was with her) thought the same thing about you!"  I explained that I had ovarian cancer and this was my first time at the temple without my wig.  I said, "At least you have hair, it is beautiful."  She whispered back to me, “the illness that took my fingers and legs and feet, also took my hair!" 

Are you kidding?  I was stunned!  How could someone go through something that traumatic and still be smiling and attending the temple?  The session started and I tried not to stare, but I couldn't believe she didn't have any legs and feet.  I stole a few glances throughout the session.  Sure enough, from her knees on down she had prosthetic legs and feet.  She didn't have any fingers on either hands, but there was enough flesh by her knuckle and where her thumb would have been, for her to hold a fan between them and fan herself.

Unbelievable!  I came to the temple complaining that my feet were killing me…and what does the Lord do to teach me?  He places me next to a woman who has no feet!  Talk about a lesson in humility!   As the session began, I quietly wiped away tears as they fell.  In my mind I said, “Thank you Lord, I get your message!”  I have been so blessed, and yet I still complain.  I asked him for forgiveness and promised that I would try to be more grateful.

As the session progressed, I started thinking about visible trials.  Both this dear sister and I had been through a lot of physical trials and it was easy for others to see.  I then thought about all the nonvisible trials that people in this session were going through and that no one knew about.  How about the sister sitting in front of me, she looked tired, just what was her story?  What was this sweet sister’s story sitting next to me?  What disease had caused her to lose her appendages and her hair?  How old is she?  Where does she live?  Is she married, does she have kids?

After the session this sister leaned over and asked me when I was diagnosed with my cancer.  I told her, and then whispered, “I would love to talk more and exchange phone numbers and share our stories with each in the dressing room.”  She nodded in agreement and smiled.  We met in the dressing room and exchanged phone numbers.  I put a call into her, but I haven't back from her yet.  I am anxious to talk with her more.

Today I realized once again that everyone struggles with things whether it is visible or not.  We struggle with sin and we struggle with trials.  It’s easier to reach out to those who we can visibly see are suffering, but those who struggle in silence need our love and support just as much.  The only way we can do this is to rely on the Holy Ghost and if we are prompted to reach out to someone, follow that prompting whether we understand why. 

"Stories on the Sabbath"

"Over ten years ago, my husband was working at a startup company and we had been waiting on a large amount of money from a potential investor for months.  Our van had been experiencing some major mechanical problems.  Finally after we had just put another $400.00 into it, we decided that it had seen its better days and that we were not going to put any more money into it.  Besides, we were being very optimistic that by the end of the year the money would be in.  There were AMAZING sales at almost every car dealership.  Some were offering 0% interest for 5 years.  Others were promoting no tax and 0% interest.  It was very apparent that NOW was the time to buy that new car that we wanted.  But there was only one problem - no money.  As the days drug on, our van drug on too, barely.  Then it started to make some noise in the engine, and then shake at various times.  Then the "check engine" light began flashing when these other things would take place.  I knew that our van was on its way to the big car graveyard in the sky.  But, the question was, could it hold on just long enough for us to get the money?  “Van, how much do you love us?  Can you hold on?  How much faith do you have?” 

            Well, I guess I am making light of a situation that seemed quite dismal at the time.  One day as I was driving, the "check engine" light came on and all these little strange sounds started.  I had this pit in my stomach.  I was clear across town and I did NOT want to be stranded.  I quietly bowed my head as I drove (I kept one eye open) and asked Heavenly Father to please bless this van to hold together for us.  I reminded him in my mind that he was aware of our financial situation and we really needed this van to hang in there until we could get another car.  From that time on, the van drove like a champ.  Days went by and the sound would start up again and the light would come on and I would just increase my faith. 

            I wanted my children to be aware of the miracle that the Lord was performing in our behalf.  And so, every time I was in the car with any of them and the sound and light came on, I would say, "Do you guys realize the miracle that is taking place right before your eyes?  This van is ready to fall apart - look over here at this light.  But Heavenly Father will not let it happen until the money comes in.  I know it.  I believe that as sure as I am sitting here.  Boy, I can't wait to see what's going to happen.  We are going to get the call that the money is here and I will go out to get in the van and it will fall apart instantly.  I can see the fender, the side panel, and the doors all laying on the driveway as I walk out.  It will be an amazing sight.  Yes even a Kodak moment!"  I would give that same speech to the kids and their friends or whomever was in the van with me whenever the light would come on.  It was as if I wanted Satan to know that he couldn't win.      

            Well, one day I received a new visiting teaching partner, named Laurie Nielson and I went to pick her up in the van.  And yes, you guessed it, the van stared acting up again.  I told her that this was a piece of junk, but that the Lord was holding it together until the money for my husband’s new job came in.  She laughed when I told her.  She didn't know very much about our situation and so as we drove I quickly filled her in on our story. 

           The night before, Craig had talked to his boss and the money from the Taiwanese was almost there.  He had received a 20 page fax completing all the paper work and so we knew it would be here any day.  (Or so we thought.  It never came!) But I tell you this for a reason.  I was totally convinced that it would be here.  This was the closest the money had ever come to being here and I BELIEVED (the arm of flesh).  I have heard that the mind is a powerful tool, but I didn't realize how powerful until after this experience.

            We had visit taught our first lady and were on our way to the second.  We drove by a lady's house that I needed to drop off some temple names to.  I pulled the van up into her slanted driveway, jumped out and delivered the names and then jumped back in.  I backed the van out of the drive way and put it into drive.  UUUhhhhhhhh.  It made that sound and would not move. I put it in overdrive and it still wouldn't go.  My companion said that it sounded like the transmission was shot.  She suggested that I back it up again and see if that would break something loose.  So I did.  It went backwards and then I put it in Drive again and nothing.  Instantly I knew what it was!  I turned to her and said, "I told you that the Lord was holding this van together until the money came in, and now it's finally dead."  I was almost positive that the money would be in that day.  And so, I didn't even question what was happening to the van.  I knew he would make good on his promise.  I just didn't know it would be this dramatic!

            I realized that I needed to get it out of the middle of the road before it began falling apart.  So I began backing it up down the street a little to a smoother spot on the side of the rode.  Laurie looked up at me and said, "Hey, do you think you could back this thing up to your house?"  I looked at her with a "hey- what a great idea look" and said, "I think so."  She asked me how far my house was, and I said not really that far.  (I don't know what I was thinking - it was over 2 miles). 

            Anyway that's what we decided to do.  I put the car in reverse and Laurie turned around in the passenger’s seat and navigated.  When I tell this story to people they ask what side of the street I drove on and I say, "The right side, of course!  I am a law abiding citizen!"  It always is followed by hysterical laughs, especially knowing how the story ends. 

            Anyway, the road we were on dead-ended because we were out in the desert area by where we lived and so we had to make several right turns to get back on a paved road.  Now it kind of gets tricky when you think about making a right turn as you are driving backwards.  I had to make 3 left turns which actually turned out to be 3 right turns if I was facing forward.  I know your next question, "Yes, I stopped at every stop sign too!"  Remember - I am a law abiding citizen! 

            I got to where I was really good at driving lickety-split down the right side of the road facing the wrong direction.  You should have seen the expression on people's faces as they drove down our street, TeePee on the right side, only to see a van driving on their left side of the road, but facing the wrong direction!  Talk about stares. 

            Anyway, we finally made it home.  Craig was inside and I ran in and said, "The van has finally died!  I'm late for my next visiting teaching visit.  So I'm going to take the truck."  With that I ran out and got in the truck and Laurie and I drove away.  Craig got his van keys, walked out to the van and turned it on.  Before doing anything else, he bent down and……… TOOK OFF THE EMERGENCY BRAKE!!!!!  He even took it for a test drive - (forward if you're wondering) and it worked just fine!

            Believe me, when I got home, I heard all about it.  I'm sure that this is one that I will never live down.  That night I was at a baby shower and Laurie was there.  I told her what had happened and she died laughing.  There were a bunch of other women around that heard both of us laughing and so they came over to hear.  So, I had to start over from the beginning.  Of course, I add-libbed and really made it into a "good story."  The room was filled with hysterical laughter.  About a half hour later when most everyone was leaving, one of the sisters came up and thanked for me such a good laugh.  She said, "I haven't laughed that hard and long for I don't know how long and I really needed it!"  Laurie asked if she could share the story and I told her to feel free.  Anyone stupid enough to do what I did deserves to be told on.  What a crack up!

            As I left that evening I overheard someone say, "Boy, visiting teaching with her takes on new meaning!"  When I called my companion the next month, she agreed to go again with me.  She said, "Oh, and Michele, I'll drive this time!"  She has gone with me every month since then.  It was a great bonding experience for both of us. 

          I was convinced that the Lord would hold our van together until the money came.  And I was also convinced that the money was there.  And so, two plus two is supposed to make four, but in this case it didn't!  However, the Lord took care of us in his own way, not in the way I had planned."
         Now for the rest of the story.  The van ran for several months after this incident and finally we decided it was time to give it up before it fell apart like I had envisioned.  We gave it to a battered women's organization and hopefully they were able to find a good mechanic and get more years of use out of it.  The money never did come in and after much prayer and fasting, we were able to get a job and move to Prescott, Arizona. 

                               (From the personal journal of Michele Romney Garvin)

Improving on a Perfect Plan?

The other day I was telling Craig that when he and I created our world, I wasn't going to make our children go through so many terrible trials as we do here on this earth.  He looked at me and then quietly said, "So, you're going to improve on a perfect plan huh?"  Enough said!  I was once again humbled.

I just found this quote that hit me square in the eyes and helped me realize again why we all have to go through trials.

        "Is there not wisdom in his giving us trials that we might rise above them, responsibility that we might achieve, work to harden our muscles, sorrows to try our souls?  Are we not exposed to temptations to test our strength, sickness that we might learn patience, death that we might be immortalized and glorified?
           If all the sick for whom we pray were healed, if all the righteous were protected and the wicked destroyed, the whole program of the Father would be annulled and the basic principle of the gospel, free agency, would be ended.  No man would have to live by faith.
           If joy and peace and rewards were instantaneously given the doer of good, there could be no evil - all would do good, but not because of the rightness of doing good.  There would be no test of strength, no development of character, no growth of powers, no free agency, only satanic controls."

                                 (--Spencer W. Kimball, Faith Precedes the Miracle, p. 98)

About Faith...

What's your definition of faith? 

Here's mine:  When you hope and pray, over and over for specific things and they don't happen;  but you STILL BELIEVE!

Craig has been very unhappy with his job since we moved to Utah two years ago.  We have fasted and prayed, and sent out resumes, searched the internet for jobs and hired expensive head hunters and still nothing. Even though he didn't like his job, every night we made sure to thank the Lord that we had a job that payed him, so we could afford to keep our insurance.

On June 15th our air conditioner broke on our home we own in Las Vegas.  I firmly believe that the Lord caused a miracle to happen and the air started working.  I also believe that it was the Lord giving us a progress report, telling we that he knew us and our situation, but that he couldn't bless us with a job just yet.

Then on June 29th Craig was layed off along with 125 other workers!  That wasn't what I thought would come next, but life is full of surprises.  Craig is continually looking for work, but with little success.  Thank goodness that our health insurance is a private insurance that we have on our own!  We have a little savings right now and are grateful for that so we can continue to pay our monthly insurance premiums.

Yesterday, we got a call from our renters in Las Vegas telling us that the air conditioner stopped working!  It was 113 degrees in Vegas when they called (poor renters).  Ugh!  Our unit is 30 years old, and they told us last time if it broke again, there was no way to repair it.  We are now looking at a bill of over $7,500 to replace the unit.

So I guess when it rains, it pours.  And so back to my definition of faith.  "When you hope and pray, over and over for specific things and they don't happen; but you STILL BELIEVE!"

We still believe that the Lord knows us and is aware of our situation.  At this point (which we have been several times before) it is so easy to rely on the "arm of flesh" and try and force things to happen.  I know from personal experience that this doesn't work, and actually causes the opposite effect, which can lead to a spiraling downward motion into depression. 

So what IS the answer for us?  Relying on the "arm of God" and trusting in HIS TIMETABLE and continuing to have faith, pray, read the scriptures, attend the temple, and listen and obey what the Holy Ghost promps us to do!

I love Moroni's admonition on faith in Ether 12:6.

"And now, I, Moroni, would speak somewhat concerning these things; I would show unto the world
that faith is things which are hoped for and not seen; wherefore, dispute not because ye see not, for ye receive no witness until after the trial of your faith."

Well, I guess this is just another chapter in the "trial of your faith" book in our lives.  Thank goodness in the scriptures that it says, "And it came to PASS", not to STAY!  I just need to remember that this too shall pass.  Thanks for sitting in on this little chat with myself :-)

"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                            "The Gift of Receiving"
 
Twilight was falling, the headlights were still on, and a large crowd was gathered around the car, curiously quiet. Shattered glass and twisted metal lay on the highway. The wheels of the car were still spinning and an awful gloom filled the air. In the distance, a little dog was running peacefully across the road, unaware of the tragedy he had just caused. A woman lay unconscious amongst the debris. I was that woman.
 

All I remember is swerving, skidding, and then flipping over and over. The initial part of the accident happened so quickly. But as I flipped, time seemed to go in slow motion. When the car finally stopped, I was slumped behind the steering wheel. My right leg extruded from the driver's side window, bent forward under the car at an impossible angle and bathed in a widening pool of blood. Broken glass was everywhere.
 
The hospital became my home for the next four weeks, days filled with excruciating pain and endless nights filled with nightmares. The hardest part for me, almost harder than the pain, was having to learn to accept help from so many people. I had been through some hard times while growing up; consequently, I didn’t trust many people and had not allowed others to get close to me. Now here I was in a most vulnerable position, and I had no other choice but to accept help.
 
I am a convert to the Church, and prior to being baptized had a very strong dislike for Mormons. Over the course of events, my eyes, and also my husband Gary's, were opened to the wonderful gospel plan. During our conversion, we felt an outpouring of love from total strangers. Because of my past, however, I remained skeptical. How could anyone love me when they didn't even know me? As time passed, we began to feel the arms of our "ward family" encircling us.
 
Just before the accident, I was undergoing intensive training to be a midwife. On the fateful day of the accident, I was on my way to deliver a baby. I had been so busy in my life up to this point, and now all I could do was lie in bed in pain. The next months were filled with many hardships.  My first night in the hospital was spent in intensive care. Three different surgeries followed. My right femur was totally shattered, and third-degree road burns covered the entire inner side of my thigh. These were some of the darkest moments of our lives.
 

Then as quickly as despair set in, the compassionate embrace of caring, loving people wrapped a blanket of warmth and love around us. Within an hour of the accident our wonderful ward was in motion. Our home teachers and others were at the hospital with priesthood blessings and support. Friends took care of our son. It seemed our every need was anticipated and cared for. So many visitors, gifts, & flowers arrived that the hospital was forced to put me in a private room for self-defense! We gave away flowers to other patients who had none. Still more came. Gary slept at the hospital on a hide-a-bed couch throughout the entire ordeal. His loving service alone was indescribable.
 
While I was in the hospital, friends went to my home and cleaned it from top to bottom. They organized our library, which I must say was quite a challenge. When told that this had been done, I was deeply embarrassed. I didn't want anyone coming into my home and seeing my clutter! However, when I came home and saw the wonderful gift that had been given, the embarrassment evaporated. My friends had done something for me that I couldn't do for myself. I was able to leave the hospital because of our new, extended family. Women with whom I felt a special bond took a day each week and stayed with me. For eight weeks, ward members brought meals into our home every night.

 
Gary and I were raised to be fiercely independent and have struggled to learn how to graciously allow others to serve us. Through this experience we discovered the gift of receiving. Service is a two-way street. There has to be a receiver as well as a giver for the circle of service to be complete. The Lord has truly taught us the importance of being a gracious receiver. We have been the recipient of supreme service. When we learn to receive, we gain a better appreciation for the Savior's gift of His atoning sacrifice. It is our testimony that when Christ like service is rendered, if we lovingly accept it, we have then made real, the sacrifice of our elder brother Jesus Christ.
 
                                               --Dana Widdison, midwife, mother of two
                                                        (By Small and Simple Things)

Happy Birthday Brother Dear!

He's a REAL LIVE Nephew of my Uncle Sam.....Born on the 4th of July!!!!

Yep, that's right.  I have only one brother and his name is Gerald Lee Romney and he was born on the 4th of July and today's his 64th birthday!  Jerry (as we call him) has a beautiful voice and he loves to sing.  He is ten years older than I am.  One year we were at a 4th of July parade and celebration.  There was a huge group of people standing around and then all of a sudden a young teenage boy dressed up as Uncle Sam started to sing:

I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy
A Yankee Doodle, do or die
A real live nephew of my uncle Sam's
Born on the Fourth of July...

I remember turning to my mom to say something like that kid could totally be Jerry, cause he was born on the 4th of July.  When I said that, my mom smiled and winked at me.  I did a quick double take and realized that it was my brother Jerry singing after all!

Jerry was such a great brother to me.  He hated to do things alone and so he always wanted one of his sisters to tag along.  He had 4 sisters, and loved every one of us.  It's not every day that a brother gets to be involved during each of his sisters "dating" lives, but Jerry was.  He was a great dancer and we each have special memories of going to dances and having him take us out on the dance floor and doing the swing and other fun dances and just having a blast with him!  This is one of my favorite pictures of Jerry!

Jerry had two special knick names for me.  I never let anyone else call me those names.  They were "mitch" or "mud".  But when he was teasing me he'd call me "mitch-super mud". :-)

Jerry reminds me of my father.  He is so sweet and a man without guile.  He is a wonderful father and husband to his wife Pat, and daughters Sarah and Emily. 

Jerry loves the Lord and has always been an amazing home teacher and missionary.  There is nothing he wouldn't do to help someone else.  He is very proud of his heritage and  I'm so grateful to be able to call him my brother.  I love you Jerry - Happy Birthday!

"Stories on the Sabbath"

THE QUEEN OF DE-JUNKING!

I hated Saturday mornings!  Why?  Well, let me tell you…. It all started when I was a little girl.  When other children got to wake up leisurely and watch Saturday morning cartoons I didn’t.  When other kids got to go play with their friends all day long (or so I thought) it was just the opposite for me.  Saturdays were our family’s “cleaning day”.  But the problem was, our house NEVER got clean.  There was too much clutter!  I remember one Saturday begging my mother to go play with my friends.  Her words have haunted me ever since, “When the WHOLE house is cleaned, then you can go!”  Talk about an insurmountable task for a little kid.  It must have been at that moment that the change took place in me.  What change do you ask?  The day that I became the “Queen of De-Junking!”

As I walked through every room in the house, all I could see were stacks of junk.  You see our house wasn’t dirty; it was just cluttered with junk.  There’s a difference, just ask my mom.  Dirt is dirt, but clutter, oh with clutter there are so many possibilities.  As I glanced at one particular stack of junk, I asked my mother, “Why on earth do you have so much junk?”  It was then that I was given the definition of junk.  “Honey,” she said as lovingly as she could, “you see, one woman’s junk is another woman’s treasure. It’s not my fault I find hidden treasure everywhere I go!” J

Poor mom, she had to put up with me.  Wait a minute…poor me!  I had to put up with her and everyone else who never cared if there was an end to the “junk” in our house.  It was at that time that I began organizing our Saturday morning work schedule.  I made a chart and gave all the family members a job, including myself and my dad.  You see, giving mom a job was useless, because she had so many other jobs that it would not have gotten done.  I don’t think I was bitter towards her; I just couldn’t stand living like this.  However, after I got the family organized, I was finally able to start watching Saturday morning cartoons and playing with my friends.  Yes, the weekly cleaning jobs got done, but the junk, it never left.  I just learned to clean around it.  That was… until I got older.

As a teenager, I started to get embarrassed with all the junk in our house.  Why did we have to live like this?  I was the baby in the family and most of the other kids were gone by then.  They had lived through it, why couldn’t I?  Even our garage was crammed to the hilt with junk!  I could see that the weight of all of this clutter was taking a toll on my mom.  There were many times that I would go through the house when she wasn’t there and just start throwing things away.  My rationale was that there was so much junk, that she would never miss it.  Boy was I wrong.  It was like she had an indexed card file in her mind of all her junk and where she had it stashed.  It became a joke in our family that when we moved, the only way we would be able to do it was to light a match and walk away!

Sadly to say, that joke actually came true.  On December 27, 1976 our beloved childhood home burnt to the ground.  It was early in the morning when the fire started and interestingly enough, it started in the garage.  To this day we still don’t know if it was an electrical spark that caused the fire or natural combustion from all the junk!  I had spent the night at a friend’s house and so I didn’t experience the immediate trauma, but I have experienced and continue to experience the aftermath of the fire.  It took months for us to wade through the burnt debris. 

Amazingly enough mother was able to find “salvageable treasures” even from the fire.  In 1988, Mom and Dad went on a mission to Australia.  By this time they had moved to another city.  I was married and came to help them “de-junk” again so they could sell their house.  This time their garage was only half filled.  “Mother,” I said with praise in my voice, “I’m so proud of you!”  She smiled a weak smile and then led me to their back room which was filled from floor to ceiling with boxes of burnt books!  I could tell I would be up well passed midnight.

Several years later I took a similar journey to another city.  They had sold their house and my services were needed again.  This time I could tell my mother was starting to weaken.  Yep, after all of these years, I had finally worn her down and she started letting me throw things away with her permission.  “Wow Mom,” I observed with delight, “you’ve come a long way baby,” I said as I sifted through piles of papers, and physically threw them away while she watched.  I was feeling excitement to think that I had finally convinced my mother to “let go” of her “junk”. 

Later that night mother fell asleep while she was sitting on the couch.  What a great opportunity this was for me.  What I did next was strictly out of love for her.  I quietly crept passed her and out into the garage.  There, lining the walls, were the boxes of burnt books that we had been carting around for the past 20 years!  How ridiculous!  As I sifted through them, even the boxes that held the books were falling apart. 

I painstakingly took out each book and tried to decide if it was worth keeping.  For the next 2 hours I made progress.  I kept any church book or history book that might have held memories for mom and dad.  But the recipe books and other secular books found their way to the garbage, some with pages not even readable.  My hands were blackened from the soot on the books, but I felt quite accomplished as I shut the door to the garage and washed up before crawling into bed.  There were only a few hours left before morning and I didn’t dare wake mom up.

The next morning I found mom in the kitchen making breakfast.  “Hi mom,” I said with a sly grin.  “What she doesn’t know won’t ever hurt her,” I thought as I gave her a hug.  She was just as chipper as I.  “Good morning honey,” she said with a smug look on her face.  “Did you have a good sleep?” she asked.  “Yes I did,” I said with a sudden pit in my stomach.  “Mo---th---er”, I said in a long drawn out voice, “have you been up to something?” She didn’t answer.  I ran out to the garbage and found that more than half the books I had thrown away the night before were not there.  I came back into the kitchen and started crying.  The de-junking queen’s crown had just fallen off!

How did I survive you ask?  I took the opposite approach in my family.  I guess you could say that I even became obsessive.  Clutter you say?  Not in my house! As a matter of fact, if you were to put a piece of paper on the counter – don’t expect to find it there at the end of the day.  My husband and children often felt like they had to tie things down in our house so as to keep it safe from being thrown away.  I’ve been told that I don’t have a sentimental bone in my body.  I guess some of that is true.  Okay, so my mom’s got a problem and so do I.  But what do we both do about it?

Several years ago I went to a therapist to help me deal with my obsession of needing to be in control and my problem of throwing everything away.  You’ll never guess what I learned.  She said that I had a blockage from my past.  I had obsessed so much over my mother’s junk that it had transferred to me and was emotionally cluttering my life.  Isn’t that amazing!  As I looked thoughtfully at the therapist I asked, “Then what is the remedy?”  She immediately responded, “You’ll have to emotionally de-junk your life!”  She must have wondered why I laughed out loud.  “I can do that!” I said as I caught my breath, “after all, I’m the Queen of De-Junking!” I figuratively reached down, put my crown back on and said, “Let the de-junking begin!” 

Written by:

Michele Romney Garvin

July 31, 2007